


Building Up to It

by thundercaya



Series: The Workplace Warzone [21]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-09-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 07:30:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8153959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thundercaya/pseuds/thundercaya
Summary: Madison is hungover and Jefferson has been up all night. What better time to discuss their first major fight?





	

Madison woke up on the floor of Jefferson’s living room under a heavy blanket, which was strange because while he did frequently lie on the floor, he usually only did it in his own home and it never involved a blanket. Never mind that he didn’t _remember_ lying on the floor, or even coming to Jefferson’s house; the pounding in his head was explanation enough for that. Madison kept the blanket around himself as he forced himself up into a sitting position.

“Good, you’re awake,” came Jefferson’s voice from behind him. Madison turned to see the man seated on the couch looking frazzled.

“Thomas…,” Madison said cautiously, “have you been sitting there all night?”

“Well, I occasionally went around the coffee table and knelt down to check if you were still _breathing_ ,” Jefferson said, “but for the most part, yes.”

Madison turned down his gaze, embarrassed at having worried Jefferson so much. “You let me sleep on the floor,” he said.

“You insisted,” Jefferson explained. “You dropped like a sandbag as soon as you got through the door and you seemed pretty adamant that I not pick you up. Just be happy I covered you.”

Madison said nothing, fiddling with the edge of the blanket.

“So,” Jefferson said. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Madison looked up. “Which part?” he asked.

“Well, preferably all of it, but start wherever you want.”

“Hm. Well. What am I like drunk?”

“Insufferable,” Jefferson said, though there was a hint of amusement there. “You sang your emo shit all the way home. How much did you drink?”

“Three Long Island Ice Teas. I’ll admit that I don’t know what’s in them.”

“Well, that’s a lot for you. How are you feeling?”

“I could sing one of my emo songs and that would cover it. Also, I need to pee.”

“Then why don’t you go do that?” Jefferson suggested, standing. “I’ll bring us some coffee.”

Madison complied, brushing his teeth while he was at it. When he returned there was no Jefferson and no coffee, but there was a glass of water on the coffee table. He resumed his place on the floor and took a drink. He was almost finished when Jefferson returned with the coffee.

“I was hoping you’d move to the couch,” Jefferson said, handing him a mug.

“I’m fine here,” Madison said.

Jefferson sighed and sat on the couch. “So how’d you get it in your head to go out and get drunk? Did Hamilton talk you into it?”

Madison took a sip of his coffee. It was far sweeter than he usually took it, but he didn’t think it was a mistake; Jefferson probably knew that he wasn’t ready for food yet, but he still needed sugar in his system. “He actually tried to talk me out of it,” Madison said. “It was just impulse. I was just angry enough to be impulsive.”

“Why were you so angry?”

“I was angry because you were angry.”

“ _I_ was angry because _you_ were angry.”

Madison set down his mug and leaned on the coffee table. “Thomas, I wasn’t angry until the moment when you _yelled at me_.”

“If you weren’t angry, why were you bringing up old shit that I already feel guilty about?”

“So I get to explain now?” Madison asked. “Because at the time you didn’t want to let me.”

Jefferson swept his arm through the air in front of him, gesturing for Madison to go ahead.

“I brought it up because I needed you to remember that you don’t know everything.”

Jefferson narrowed his eyes. “I never said that I--”

“Wait, wait,” Madison said. He needed to be more careful with his words right now; the coffee was helping, but his last meal had been lunch yesterday. “Let me try that again. I needed you to remember that you don’t know everything about _me_. You... think that the walls I keep running into are fake, or… I put them there myself and I could just pull them down if I really wanted to. _For example_ , you thought that if I just got myself up there, I could sing in front of all those people with no problems. But here’s the thing. Those walls aren’t fake and I didn’t put them there. And, sure, maybe if I tried hard enough, if I thought it was worth it, I could break through some of them, but it’s not your job to decide when that’s the case. That’s what you did with karaoke, and that’s what you were trying to do with this whole running mate thing.”

Jefferson fiddled with his mug, looking down at it instead of at Madison. “I don’t… think it’s fake.”

Madison sighed. “Okay, good.”

Jefferson looked up then. “But I do think that, like you said, sometimes you could break through them, and okay, karaoke was a mistake because the potential payoff wasn’t worth the effort or the risk, but--”

“It’s not worth it this time, either,” Madison cut in.

“James, you’ve campaigned before,” Jefferson reminded. “You’ve won elections.”

“Do you know why I ran for the House rather than the Senate?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jefferson said. “You were the same party as the incumbent Senator.”

“Well, that was my excuse,” Madison said, leaning back, hands on the ground behind him to hold up his weight, “but I would have done it anyway. Smaller pool of voters, and half the people in my district know someone in my family, or at least know of them. It’s not anywhere near the same level as what you’re talking about. Besides, if I lose my seat, those are my consequences alone. If I’m your running mate and I fuck up, the person who loses is _you_.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if I lost.”

“ _I’d_ blame me.”

Jefferson sighed. “James, can you come sit here by me?”

“Why?”

“I let you sleep down there. Isn’t that enough?”

Madison took another drink from his coffee before standing up. This was probably a trap. He sat on the couch and before he could even turn to look at Jefferson, the other man had pulled him into an embrace, a hand caressing Madison’s head and neck.

“I didn’t realize this came down to you not wanting to hurt my chances.”

“That’s just one rea-- Thomas, don’t _pet_ me.” 

Jefferson immediately ceased and also released Madison from the embrace. Madison righted himself, then realizing that his headache hadn’t felt as bad while Jefferson was touching him, leaned into the man again.

“I changed my mind. Go ahead.”

Jefferson wrapped his arms around him again and resumed the touch.

Madison tried again. “Thomas, I want you to succeed and I want to help you any way I can, but this isn’t the way. There’s someone better than me for this particular job. Someone who would _like it_. You can have me do something else for you when you’re already President, something I’m comfortable doing. You can have me in your Cabinet or something.”

“My cabinet is not the piece of furniture I want to have you in,” Jefferson said.

Madison sighed. “Thomas, this is serious.”

Jefferson kissed the top of his head. “I know. I’m sorry. But… that sounds like a good compromise. I want to have you with me every step of the way.”

“I will be. But I really wish you hadn’t brought this up so early. You haven't even thrown your name in yet and here I am already having to worry about all of this.”

“Well then, you’re about to get upset with me again,” Jefferson said.

Madison pulled back from him to look at his face. “Why?”

“The biggest reason why I wanted you to be my Vice President is that after I’m done, I want _you_ to be President.”

Madison’s entire body stiffened and his eyes went wide. “What.”

“I know that sounds terrifying now,” Jefferson said hurriedly, hands up placatingly, “but I had hoped to build you up to it.”

Madison took a deep breath. “On the one hand I see the logic in your plan. On the other hand I need to stop thinking about this before my heart either starts vibrating or just stops working entirely.”

“Fair,” Jefferson said. “But... are we… okay?”

“Well, you did stay up all night to make sure I was still breathing, so that’s in your favor.”

“I just thought mixing one of your medications with alcohol might cause respiratory depression.”

Madison held back a comment about how that wouldn’t have been such a bad thing. The man had spent the night afraid that Madison was going to die; he could be flippant another time.

“We’re okay,” Madison confirmed. “And we’re going to make you President.”


End file.
